


Stay Over

by halocentury



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Bruises, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Leia Narrative, M/M, Mutual Pining, One May Never Know, Pining, Secret Relationship, background benarmie, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocentury/pseuds/halocentury
Summary: Leia reads the newspaper at night. There is nothing good on television and too much worse in the news. Rights and wrongs. Many interpretations. Her own interpretation of Ben's friend takes on a different light.(Background Benarmie. Undisclosed. It might be pining, mutual pining or secret relationship. Up to interpretation!)





	Stay Over

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my head since last week. Trying to channel a Leia who doesn't know what to make of Armitage Hux. 
> 
> The Benarmie may or not be real. Feel free to interpret it however which way you want!

The rain is coming down harder but it’s background noise, forgotten while she reads the paper. There is nothing good on television and too much worse in the news. The sports section lies on the floor, beside the front section, the culprit behind her not really bad mood. The problem is reality. The city, the country and the world are all fighting for their rights, or at least their interpretation of right. In many stories it’s wrong. The business section she’s about to finish emphasises all that. Despite the causes and charities some corporations back they do it all with the motive of getting more people to purchase shares, making more money and gaining attention.

She needs to lighten the mood. Picking up the Arts and Entertainment section, the perfectly made up faces of two actors staring up to her, she tries to let go of her pessimism, the last thing she needs to do before getting ready for bed. The house is already quiet, the storm outside a different story.

Yet the sound she hears is too light to be thunder. The fact that she hears it at all, over the rain, suggests it may even be right outside the window.

Looking over quickly, the lamp on the table reflecting back to her from the pane, she thinks she’s seen something dart out of view. 

Setting down the newspaper to the pile destined for the recycling, she gets up swiftly and quietly. Proceeds to the backdoor, turning on the outside lights, but all she sees is the patio chairs, fabric sinking under the weight of absorbed water.

The grass is slick and dark past the deck, out of reach from the lights. There are no animal shapes or indents of footprints. The deck shows no indication of whether anyone had moved across it.

Flicking off the switch she turns around, closing her eyes. The patter of raindrops is a rhythm she’s been listening to for the past three hours. It falls on the windows, eavestroughs, the roof, all producing a slightly different timbre. 

In amongst it she senses a creak, like a gate that Han promised a month ago he would fix. Though she knows she could step outside to see if the gate is open her intuition leads her to the front door. Without stopping to think, putting all the pieces together, she unlocks and opens it.

Armitage stands on the stoop, barely sheltered from the rain. Tenses under her scrutiny.

It’s not his first nightly visit. Normally she and Han find him the morning after, one of Ben’s shirts oversized on him when he eats cereal at the kitchen table. Twice she’s knocked on Ben’s door, opening it to hear a thump followed by Armitage sitting back against the bed, Ben groggily looking up from his pillow.

“Ben is at the movies with Poe,” Leia states, stopping his question cold.

Armitage closes his mouth, jaw tightening. “When might he be back?”

“After you leave.” She smirks when Armitage huffs under his breath, exasperated but amused nonetheless. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.” 

Pursing his lips again, he flinches to turn his head. A stiff nod and he begins to step back.

In the hallway light a red mark across his cheekbone is highlighted. 

The squelch of a puddle brings her attention down, to bare feet.

“Wait.” Armitage doesn’t turn around but stops, the muscles of his neck suggesting a minute twist of his chin. “Ben shouldn’t be too much longer.”

She leads the way into the kitchen, Armitage silent behind her, but when he sits down she rummages in the drawer where the dish towels are kept. He needs more than the three she retrieves, not quite long enough to stretch between his fingers up to his elbows, but they were the closest on hand. For ten o’clock on a wet night, it would begin the drying and warming up process.

Lowering the towel he used to make his hair less wet he hangs onto the ends, hanging over his shoulders. “I texted him. Didn’t stop to consider why he hadn’t answered.”

She doesn’t have anything against him per se, even though her silence implies as much. Armitage has always been polite whenever he’s over. His reaction to Han’s humour ranges from startled to carefully neutral or nods. Answers when he is asked a question but never elaborates beyond what’s necessary. Doesn’t start conversations aside from the standard morning greetings. Despite this quiet and restrained approach he always makes sure to watch them if not meet their eyes.

“Has he answered you back?” she asks after she sits down opposite him.

Jostling the towel he reaches forward. There on the table, in a Ziploc bag, is his phone. Reaching down to dry his hands – she has to swallow back a laugh, realising that towel in question is covering the seat he is using – he frees his phone, unlocks it with a long pin code.

“No.” Setting his phone back down, but leaving his hands on the table, he looks back up. His hair still clings to his face, mostly for his damp skin, making him look paler than usual. 

“Are those your pyjamas?” 

A hint of colour suffuses his cheeks. He puffs them out, nodding.

Quiet and restrained. Both have their moments of being used in the right time and place. In a teenager it’s not what she expects, not when she can compare it to Poe. It’s neither good or bad. Poe can be boisterous but it’s easy to warm up to his smiles and genuine interest. He remembers their conversations, asks about Han’s latest flight and destination. Knows better than to ask about the latest City Council meeting but asks about where she’ll be on the coming Saturday or how the last Saturday’s event went. 

Armitage is aware but keeps his questions to himself. Watches and she knows he’s listening to everything that is going on. One of these days, she reminds herself, he may be ready to use that information to his advantage.

She wants to shake her head but doesn’t, looking straight at him. He swallows but doesn’t back down, even though his face reddens more when she asks. “Why did you go out for a walk, in the rain, wearing only your pyjamas?”

A slam stops him from answering. The rain continues to patter, calmer than previously. Thunder is not the cause but the front door, swiftly opened and shut when Ben runs into the kitchen. “Hux! Are you alright?”

“Mostly.” She knows the only thing that prevents him from answering an honest yes is the embarrassment that hangs over him. Ben has taken the towel off of him, taking the opportunity to squeeze his shoulders. 

“Then what happened?” Lowering himself into the free chair, usually used by Han, Ben sits between them, waiting for either of them to answer. She nods towards Armitage who sighs, glancing quickly to her then back to Ben.

“I was keeping him awake, doing my homework.”

The pink is fading from his face but the red mark lingers. And the longer she observes it she can measure it to be considerably wider than the breadth of her knuckles.

Ben frowns while she calculates. Barefoot. Probably running in the rain. Routine nightly visits.

“Is that all you brought with you?” Ben asks, motioning to his phone. Hux’s murmured assent has Ben wringing the towel in his lap. “I’ll go back with you tomorrow morning so you can grab your bag.”

Armitage doesn’t stand up when Ben does. Seated he hazards to watch her from the corner of his eye. 

He’s listening, waiting with held breath. 

Guarded, waiting for unspoken permission to be stolen. 

“There are towels in the linen closet.” To clean away the remnants of a race against the elements, embedded in the soles of his feet. To warm up before going to sleep.

Armitage nearly smiles, follows after Ben. Passes him by when she calls for Ben.

“How long has this been going on?” 

Ben knows that she’s not asking about the unannounced sleepovers but lifts one shoulder, ashamed to not know the answer. “I only know how long he’s taken me up on the offer to come over. How long it’s been going on before that, I wish I knew. I would’ve asked you or dad what to do if that was the case.”

She has more questions, mostly concerning the degree to which they’ll share his bed, but shakes her head. 

The rights and wrongs of society have hit too close to home. 

“I’ll put his clothes in the washer when he’s done in the shower,” she says instead.

Ben nods and goes upstairs.

Back in the family room, she stares at the front page of the arts section. 

Picks it up with the rest of the paper, tossing it straight in the recycling in the garage.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/halocentury) or [Tumblr](http://centurytwitch.tumblr.com).


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